


The City and the Sea

by CallyCally



Category: Free!
Genre: Canon Compliant, Confessions, Fluff, Free! Dive to the Future, Friends to Lovers, Haru and Makoto in tokyo, Haru is very introspective in this one, M/M, Nanase Haruka Birthday Exchange 2020, Oneshot, POV Nanase Haruka, Sickfic, a lot of fluff, he's also very VERY in love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-14
Updated: 2020-07-14
Packaged: 2021-03-04 20:48:16
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,845
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25262602
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CallyCally/pseuds/CallyCally
Summary: After nearly three weeks without seeing each other, Haru was really looking forward to today, and the last thing he wanted was to ruin it with his own carelessness. His chest sinks in disappointment. Sure, they texted every day, but it wasn’t the same. He missed Makoto’s warm and comforting presence by his side.Or alternatively, a fic where Haru catches a cold, Makoto worries, and a realization is had.Written as a gift for the Nanase Haruka birthday exchange 2020!
Relationships: Nanase Haruka & Tachibana Makoto, Nanase Haruka/Tachibana Makoto
Comments: 14
Kudos: 129





	The City and the Sea

**Author's Note:**

  * For [moonlitfool](https://archiveofourown.org/users/moonlitfool/gifts).



> This is my gift for @miipn who asked for a canon compliant oneshot with lots of makoharu fluff!
> 
> Also a MASSIVE thank you to @yuurismocha and @petiteniku for all of their help and encouragement! You are both angels 💖💖💖  
> 
> 
> Any mistakes or inconsistencies are mine and mine alone!
> 
> All that said, I hope you enjoy! 💙💚

The moment Haru wakes up, he knows he is going to have to text Makoto and cancel their meetup.

His throat feels raw and itchy, his head is pounding, and even though he’s sweating under the blankets, he finds himself shivering a little with cold. Haru sighs in frustration, aggravating his throat and promptly sending him into a coughing fit. He flops back onto his pillows when he’s done catching his breath, and allows the guilt to settle in. His mind drifts back to yesterday’s freezing temperatures and of himself, walking home with only a light jacket, hair damp from training and no scarf or gloves.

After nearly three weeks without seeing each other (what with Haru’s training camp and Makoto’s exams) he was really looking forward to today, and the last thing he wanted was to ruin it with his own carelessness. His chest sinks in disappointment. Sure, they texted every day, but it wasn’t the same. He missed Makoto’s warm and comforting presence by his side. 

He thinks back to all the times Makoto forced a scarf on him, put his own gloves on Haru’s hands or even dried his hair for him. He winces at the scolding he is most likely going to get when Makoto finds out, because of course he will. He would know with nothing else but a simple glance at Haru’s avoidant eyes. He knows him all too well. It’s both a blessing and a curse, really.

Haru sniffles and fumbles for his phone, squinting at the bright light of the screen in his dimly curtained room as he waits for his eyes to adjust. He sees the time and nearly flinches. 11am. Well, he definitely slept through his alarm. It’s still not too late to catch Makoto before he’s out the door, though.

To: Makoto Sent 11:04 am 

_Woke up with a cold. Maybe we can meet up next week. Sorry._

Not a full minute passes until before Haru receives a reply.

Received 11:04 am

_Oh no Haru! Don’t apologise! I’ll be over in an hour._

Haru frowns, squinting at his screen in annoyance.

Sent 11:06 am

_Don’t want you to get sick too._

The reply is, once again, almost immediate.

Received 11:07 am

_Orange or apple juice, Haru-chan?_

Haru almost smiles.

Makoto can be so stubborn once he sets his mind to something, but he is even more so when it comes to taking care of others. Even back when they were children in Iwatobi, the moment Makoto caught wind that Haru wasn’t feeling so well, the boy would be at his door fully equipped with his Nintendo ds and a get-well soon card (always blushing at the teasing from Haru’s parents), staying with him until he was called back home for dinner. If Haru was really unwell, he would leave with promises to be back the next day. 

Haru looks back at the text. Some things never really do change.

Sent 11:12 am

_Anything is fine._

Received 11:14 am

_Ok! Orange it is!_

Haru does smile this time, settling back into his pillows. He really should get up and at least make them both tea and take something for his headache, maybe get dressed…but his eyelids still feel too heavy, and his body is practically sinking back into the bed….he might just sleep for a few minutes more…

...

When Haru wakes again, it is to the jingle of keys in a lock and the rustle of shopping bags being dropped. _Makoto_ , he thinks, and then realises that he had never gotten up to change or make tea. He feels even worse than earlier though, and can’t find the energy in himself to get up from bed and greet his friend. There turns out to be no real need, because in a few short moments Makoto rushes in, cheeks flushed from the cold outside and hair mussed from the wind. Even through the fog of tiredness, Haru feels his heart squeeze a little at the sight.

“Haru!” Makoto lowers himself onto his knees next to the bed, eyes and forehead scrunched in worry. _Like I’m on my deathbed_ , Haru thinks with exasperated fondness.

“Relax, Makoto” his voice croaks terribly. 

“It’s just a cold-“ but his reassurances are cut short by another coughing fit (thankfully shorter than the last one) that trails off into a silence so thick it’s practically tangible.

“Haru…” 

Uh oh, he knows that tone.

Haru looks up through watery eyes and sees exactly what he had feared: the steely set of his eyebrows and the slight downward tilt to his mouth that signals he’s been caught red-handed.

“Haru-chan…please tell me you didn’t forget your scarf and gloves yesterday…”

Haru wilts a little at the sigh in his voice.

“Mn. Sorry.”

Makoto whines in exasperation and all traces of sternness fall away.

“Don’t apologise, Haru. I just want you to take care of yourself, that’s all”

“I know. I’ll be more careful next time.”

Makoto looks at him in despair for another moment before it dissolves into tired fondness, and he stands up, mumbling.

“But that’s what you say every time, Haru-chan….” 

Haru smiles a little in response and starts to sit up, thinking to follow Makoto into the kitchen, before he feels a gentle hand on his chest setting him back down onto the bed, followed by an even softer one brushing his bangs away from his forehead. 

Makoto’s hands are still a little cold from being outside, but it’s heaven for Haru. He leans into it before he can stop himself feeling Makoto’s hand twitch, although it doesn’t leave his head. 

“M-mm. Your forehead does feel a little warm”. Despite Makoto’s ears reddening at the tips, he shows no signs of moving and soon enough, the soft hand begins to tentatively brush his hair back in a pattern, petting as though he was a cat, Haru thinks with amusement. But it feels so soothing that he can’t complain.

The two sit in a silence that seems to grow more comfortable as the minutes pass. Haru starts to feel drowsy again, Makoto’s motions filling his chest with a deep warmth he hadn’t realised he had missed that much. Looking at Makoto’s soft smile he supposes his friend had missed him too.

Their moment is interrupted by a loud sneeze that startles Makoto enough to wrench his hand away and surge up from his position, cheeks now red enough to match his ears.

Haru curses his sick body.

“Y-you stay and rest, Haru chan. I’m going to get a thermometer and some cold medicine.”

Huffing, Haru settles back with a whump. Once Makoto is in full caretaker mode, there’s no stopping him.

“Drop the chan.” 

Haru can hear Makoto giggling even as he leaves the room. Rolling his eyes good-naturedly, he settles back into the covers to stave off the chills that keep wracking his body.

Makoto returns in no time and coaxes Haru into sitting, helping him way more than he needs to with the water and cold meds. If it were anyone else, the behavior would be annoying. But Haru knows that Makoto’s hovering is for his own comfort as well as Haru’s. With the amount of health-scares Haru has had over the years, Makoro gets irrationally worried when it comes to him, and the furrow still present in his brows confirms that. 

Haru feels guilty sometimes, knowing that he is the cause for such worry (they still don’t ever really talk about his bout of pneumonia, Aki, the river). He had felt it himself, of course, when Makoto almost drowned and if he knows his best friend at all, he probably felt the same guilt. It’s really neither of their faults, though, and as much as Haru has expressed otherwise throughout the years, it has always felt nice to have Makoto dote on him. Well, when he’s not wracked with worry like he is now. 

Haru reaches out and pokes the furrow in his brow.

“Makoto. I’m fine. I’ll be fine. Stop worrying so much.” Even as he says it, he knows it’s easier than done, but the words do their job when Makoto’s frown melts into one of his warm smiles, albeit a little smaller than normal. 

“You’re right, Haru…let me at least take your temperature though?”

Haru sighs, but lifts his arm anyway.

They sit in comfortable silence until it beeps and Makoto’s relief is almost palpable when he reads the number.

“Not too high! It’s probably a cold and not a flu then…that’s good…well, not _good_ good, just that you’ll recover faster and-“

“Makoto” Haru cuts off his nervous rambling and they share a look. Makoto visibly wilts.

“Right. Sorry, I’ll try to stop worrying,” his smile is small and apologetic, and Haru’s heart is overcome with another wave of fondness. He’s really so silly. Their shared looks turn into mirrored smiles.

“Do you feel up to eating anything, Haru?” Makoto tries instead.

Haru considers it, he hasn't really eaten anything since yesterday evening and even though he feels like he has no energy to even stand up, let alone cook something up for himself, he supposes he should. 

“Mn. Maybe something light.”

Makoto’s eyes light up in determination and alarm bells begin to ring in haru’s mind.

“Ok! I got all the stuff to make okayu just the way mom used to make it for us!”

“I can do it….” But Haru already knows it's a futile effort.

“Please stay in bed, Haru! I’ve been practising cooking way more on my own and I’ve already improved a lot! Besides, Mom sent me the recipe step by step, so not even I could mess that up!”

Haru feels his brow twitch and his mind can’t help but drift to that time Makoto cut his finger chopping onions, or the time he burst tomatoes with his bare hands as if they were balloons, _or_ the time he made jello look like tuna surimi… He wants to trust Makoto, he really does, but he can’t help the caution that begins to rise in him.

It must show on his face somewhat, because Makoto’s sunny smile turns sheepish and he rubs the back of his neck in a signature nervous habit. 

“Please remember-”

“Cat paws, Haru-chan, I know”

Haru sighs in relief. Maybe it won’t go so badly after all.

  
  


...

He is proven wrong very shortly after.

While his initial plan had been to nap a little (given that Makoto tends to take his sweet time when he’s cooking), he quickly found that it was impossible. Everytime his eyes were about to drift shut, he would be awoken by a loud clatter coming from the kitchen. It was an exercise in self-restraint that Haru didn’t rush out of bed after each sound, even when one sounded suspiciously like a smashed glass. He wanted Makoto to know he trusted him...that, and he really had little energy to move. 

Finally after what feels like an eternity, the door to the bedroom slides open and Haru’s nose wrinkles a little at the odd smell that invades the room, one that reminds him of burnt food, but with his blocked sinuses he can’t be completely sure. When Makoto enters the room looking as though the world just ended, head bowed and bottom lip between his teeth, Haru makes a mental note to scrub his rice cooker clean once he feels better. Assuming he won’t have to buy a new one. 

Makoto nervously shuffles towards the bed and sets the tray down on Haru’s lap, trying his absolute hardest to avoid his eyes. When Haru looks at the bowl presented before him, he can sort of see why. With the food up close, he can definitely confirm the smell from earlier as burnt: the rice is but a sad, curled and slightly brown mess at the bottom of the bowl, with misshapen umeboshi in the centre, sprinkled with green onions that look simultaneously too thickly chopped and like they were put through a paper shredder.

“U-um...I might have...lost track of time and left the rice in for too long…hehe...” Makoto trails off, and his smile begins to look more like a pained grimace. 

The two sit in silence for a long moment, and it’s so ridiculous- _Makoto_ is so ridiculous-that Haru can’t control the laughter that bursts suddenly from his chest. Maybe it’s wooziness from the cold, but once he starts, he finds that he can’t stop. He can feel Makoto’s shocked gaze but he can do little else but curl over the food tray, shoulders shaking with silent laughter.

It takes a moment, but gradually Makoto joins him, his giggles turning to full blown laughter that has him clutching at his stomach.

Whilst it is obvious that Haru has laughed like this very few times in his life, the same can be said about Makoto, whose smiles are daily and unending but whose laughter is rare and precious. As they both calm down and try to catch their breath, Haru thinks about encapsulating this moment and tucking it into his heart to keep forever.

They simultaneously look back down at the abysmal okayu, then at each other, and the inelegant snort Makoto lets out almost sets them off again.

“Aaaah I’m useless, Haru,” Makoto flops over dramatically, head thumping on the mattress next to Haru’s legs, but he’s still smiling. “Mom would be so disappointed in me”.

“You’re not useless,” Haru smiles and reaches out to pat his head before he thinks about it, ignoring the stutter of his heart when Makoto leans in to his touch.

“You just need more practice is all.”

“Maybe twenty more years of it.” Makoto whines.

Haru rolls his eyes. As much as Makoto tries to fool him with his self-deprecatory dramatics, Haru can read the dejection in his eyes, and he knows that Makoto is probably beating himself up right now.

Haru gives his one last pat to the head, before moving it to Makoto’s face and smushing his cheeks together to give him a ridiculous fish pout, ignoring his friend’s squawk of protest.

“I have some miso in the cupboard, these onions can still be used too. Even you can’t go wrong with that.”

Makoto’s eyes soften knowingly. He doesn’t say anything, but his small yet grateful smile tells Haru everything he needs to know. With renewed determination in his eyes, Makoto is out the door once again, leaving Haru with his own fuzzy-brained sickness and the phantom sensation of Makoto’s soft hair between his fingers. He clenches his fist, trying to hold onto the warmth, and finds that his body is already shivering less. He hardly had the time to ponder this when Makoto returns after only a short moment, tray laden with toast, a glass of orange juice and the miso soup (looking perfectly edible, aside from perhaps the excess of green onion).

They chat idly while Haru eats and tries not to cough into his soup, filling each other in on what they had missed from each other’s lives in their time apart. Haru tells him about Coach Azuma’s gruelling training regimen and their arguments over Haru’s diet plan (that never included enough mackerel). Makoto tells him about the progress he’s making with his swimming students, eyes lighting up when he recounts Misaki’s massively improved times. He frets a little over his exams, but Haru is quick to reassure him that he had indeed studied his ass off and will probably do just fine. 

Somewhere in the midst of their chatter, the effects of the cold medicine begin to kick in and Haru’s head doesn’t feel as stuffy or heavy anymore, his mind even clearer. What he does feel, though, is drowsy, both thanks to his full stomach and the medicine.

Makoto notices his gradually slowing blinks and urges him to take a long nap.

“You don’t have to stay.”

“Of course I’m staying, Haru-chan. Besides, I need to get a head start on the new assignments we got yesterday. So soon after exams!” He bemoans, leaving the room presumably to get to work.

Haru rolls his eyes fondly, but settles snugly into his blankets, eyes already beginning to drift shut. He expects Makoto to leave him to it, but to his surprise (or perhaps, not at all) his friend reenters the room, plonking himself down on the floor with his back propped against the bed right next to Haru, and proceeds to take out his laptop and books. Haru frowns in disapproval. 

“Makoto, use the desk at least.”

Makoto shakes his head, turning around to smile sweetly at him. From this proximity, Haru could reach out and touch him and his heart pounds a little at the thought, but he restrains himself. He’s been having those thoughts around Makoto a lot recently, though he supposes it’s more intense now given how long they’d been apart until today. 

“I’m ok here, really. Unless you would prefer I leave so you can rest?”

Haru knows Makoto has always found comfort in staying close to him whenever he was sick or felt unwell, knowing that should Haru need anything he would only be a call away. Although this is perhaps a bit extreme, Haru deeply appreciates it nonetheless. 

“Do what you want. Just don’t complain to me when your back hurts later.” 

He can practically feel Makoto’s gentle yet knowing smile, so he closes his eyes and tries to fight the warmth in his cheeks, resisting the urge to hide his face in a pillow. Especially when he hears Makoto giggling softly under his breath. 

They fall into a comfortable silence, nothing but papers rustling and Haru’s own breathing. He doesn’t open his eyes again until he hears the sound of Makoto’s fingers on the keyboard, and by the time he does, Makoto is entirely engrossed in his work, most likely assuming Haru has fallen asleep.

For a while, Haru simply watches Makoto. The way that he squints at his laptop screen, having forgotten his glasses at his apartment yet again, or how when he hums softly when he understands something in a reading. Haru feels the same urge from earlier to just reach out and touch; the fine hairs that fall on the nape of his neck (Makoto has also forgotten a haircut it seems, but Haru thinks it makes him look even softer, if that’s even possible). He finds himself wanting to trace his profile as he sees it, from the messy scattering of hair on his forehead, down the bridge of his nose, to the jut of his chin. The way he purses his lips cutely when he’s thinking hard makes Haru want to know how they would feel against his own-

Ok. Time to stop it there. It’s not a new thought to Haru, but he usually never dwells on it too long, at least not with the other boy so close to him. He shuts his eyes tightly. If he can’t look at Makoto then maybe he won’t be as distracted. It sort of works. While he’s still very aware of Makoto’s presence, it gradually transforms into one that is more comforting,and he soon falls asleep to the gentle sounds of their breathing and Makoto’s quiet typing.

...

He’s not sure what time it is when he wakes, but judging by the dimmer light in the room from behind his closed eyelids, it’s probably late in the evening. Haru can’t even feel guilty for sleeping for so long, feeling significantly better and well rested, if not still a little stuffy and weak. He’s also pretty awake now; awake enough to now be more decent company for his best friend. Speaking of, Haru notices that the room has gone suspiciously quiet, absent from rustling papers and typing, and when he opens his eyes, he quickly finds out why.

Makoto stares listlessly at his laptop screen, eyelids drooping and hair disheveled in a way that shows he’s been running his hands through it in frustration. With the harshness of his laptop light illuminating his face, Haru also notices the circles under his eyes that signify he is still shaking off leftover stress from exams. It is then that Haru decides enough is enough.

“Makoto.”

Makoto yelps in surprise, whipping around, hand on his heart.

“H-haru you scared me! I didn’t know you were awake…”

Haru ignores this in favour of the more pressing matter.

“Makoto.” He says pointedly.

Their eyes meet and after a minute, Makoto wilts under his stern gaze, dragging a hand over his face in surrender.

“Ok ok, you win Haru-chan. No more for today.”

Well that was easy, Haru thinks. He had honestly expected more pushing, so Makoto must be more tired than he lets on. That, and he probably doesn’t want to argue with Haru in his weakened state.

“Drop the chan. Come watch a movie with me.”

While Makoto quickly grabs something to eat from the kitchen, Haru migrates to the couch, feeling a little unsteady after having practically spent the entire day in bed. He sticks on one of the films Rin had left behind during his last visit to Japan, a dvd cover that promises a lot of action (and knowing Rin, romance). It’s in English, so there’s a chance Makoto may be too tired to read subtitles but it’s the only new film he has lying around his apartment anyways, since most of them are at Makoto’s. 

His best friend in question returns soon enough and they make themselves comfortable next to each other, and Makoto naturally fusses over Haru before the film studio logo even appears on screen, plumping pillows and ensuring they’re both covered in a blanket. The film is a little more violent than what they were both expecting and although Haru is generally unshakeable no matter the film genre, he finds himself frowning at the ridiculousness of some of the fight scenes, at the exaggerated spurts of blood and gore, the deafening screeching of car tires.

The same can’t be said about Makoto, who flinches from the very first gunshot, his hand automatically grabbing at Haru’s sleeve in fright, before apologising and nervously laughing it off. Haru wants to tell him he doesn’t mind, but the way his warmth lingers on his skin stops the words in his throat. He offers to change the film instead, to which Makoto vehemently refuses, claiming that there’s no need and he could handle it, he was “not a kid anymore, after all.” Haru still notices his uneasiness though, in the stiff way he holds himself, and how his hands keep making aborted movements towards Haru after every scare.

And maybe it’s the cold that is making Haru’s thoughts more unreserved and softer than ever, but it gives him just enough courage to slip his hand into Makoto’s open palm next to him. Not even a second passes until Makoto’s fingers curl around his softly, just holding on, and it makes Haru’s heart ache, the movie forgotten as he finally allows himself to face the feelings that have been growing within him for a while now. And he knows that it has probably affected their friendship in some ways:

Haru would be lying if he hadn’t noticed a subtle yet gradual change between the two of them, particularly over the past year.

Naturally, they weren’t spending as much time together, what with Haru’s training, Makoto’s part-time coaching job and both of their classes and assignments. He doesn’t know if the distance has made their relationship stronger exactly, but it has certainly made him aware of Makoto’s absences. It had happened way more when he had only just moved to tokyo, but he still occasionally finds himself looking beside him only to forget Makoto isn’t there.

It had been a difficult change for them both, Haru knows. But somehow their current relationship feels a little more reciprocal. For instance, Haru finds himself reaching out a lot more, whether it be a simple greeting text or organising a meetup. The two of them also appreciate their time together in a way that they had perhaps taken a little for granted back in Iwatobi.

All in all, Haru supposes that more than making their relationship stronger, Tokyo has brought them _closer_. Perhaps in a way they hadn’t really been before. Like the way they are now.

For one thing, while Makoto’s touch has been the only one he tolerated (and even enjoyed, though he doesn’t really admit it often) all of his life, he never found himself actively seeking it or anticipating it until more recently: a lingering touch when handing something over, a hand on his arm to call his attention, sharing bites of food that they have already tried hundreds of times before. Just a few weeks ago, Makoto had gently guided him through the train station by the waist, to avoid being swallowed by the heavy crowd, and Haru’s skin had buzzed for what felt like hours after.

His skin isn’t buzzing now, not entirely, but a deep feeling of belonging settles over him. It just feels _right_. He is so calm and at peace. Makoto seems to be too, if his drooping eyelids but tiny warm smile is any indication.

Slowly and gently, he leans his head on Makoto’s shoulder, who responds in kind by leaning his own cheek on top of Haru’s head and they stay like that, hardly paying attention to the movie until its end, each lost in their own thoughts. 

...

When the movie ends, they are so loath to move from their position that they let the credits play until the screen turns black, darkening the room until the only light source comes from the window. Despite it being winter, Haru notices the light is unusually bright, silver stripes painting the floor from where the moonlight filters through the blinds.

“Wow, the moon is so bright tonight, Haru.”

Haru swears that Makoto can actually read his mind sometimes.

“Want to take a closer look?”

And how could Haru say no to that smile? 

“Mn. We’ll see it better from the balcony.” Haru stands and offers his hand to Makoto, who takes it and, to Haru’s pleasant surprise, doesn’t let go. Instead, he intertwines their fingers and they walk hand in hand to the balcony door, Haru’s heart pounding a little the whole time. When he takes a peek at Makoto from the corner of his eye, he suppresses a smile at the redness that dusts his cheeks, visible even in the dim light. 

They both stop short when they reach the glass, eyes widening in tandem because-

“It’s huge!” And Makoto’s right. For once, the sky has cleared enough to make way for a smattering of stars that surround an enormous full moon. The awe in his best friend’s voice is almost child-like, but Haru understands the sentiment. 

Tokyo is a never-ending bustling labyrinth of buildings and traffic and crowds, with no ocean in sight. Whilst all of this was initially difficult to get used to, what really unnerved Haru was the differences in the night skies. He misses the ocean, of course, but he spends a huge amount of time in water every week, which is more than enough to satisfy him. But to look up at the sky at night and hardly see a single star or even the moon was what truly affirmed his new life in the city, in a bittersweet way. He’s always going to miss Iwatobi and it’s clear, starry skies, but he has Makoto here with him, and that in itself makes Tokyo home. 

He looks to the boy in question and his heart clenches at the enthusiastic sparkle in his eyes and the sweet smile on his lips. When the smile turns to him, all Haru wants to do is make it bigger. He moves to open the balcony door, only to be pulled back by the hand intertwined with his.

“Ah-Haru! You can’t go out like that! You’ll make your cold even worse!” He whines, and spends the next few minutes bundling Haru up in a thick jacket, scarf, hat and gloves. Haru grumbles a little, but ultimately surrenders. Makoto is only trying to take care of him after all. He won’t let Makoto forget about himself, though, and makes sure he too is sufficiently wrapped up before retaking his hand again and pulling him out into the night, sliding the balcony door shut behind them.

Another part of Tokyo that Haru still hasn’t gotten used to is how noisy it can be at night. Back in Iwatobi, nighttime was silent save for the crashing of waves and the chirping of crickets, but Tokyo is a cacophony compared to their sleepy seaside town. With Makoto pressed against him shoulder to shoulder, their fingers interlaced, Haru finds the sounds easy to tune out, the two of them in their own little bubble. 

They don’t talk, they don’t need to. Silences have always been easy as breathing between them. It’s enough to simply take in the sky before them and enjoy each other’s presence. Unlike the many other times they’ve spent like this, there is something about this moment that feels weighted _._

Weighted with the same _something_ that fills Haru’s chest and gravitates him closer to Makoto without his own accord. The same _something_ that has been filling his thoughts whenever he’s around his best friend.

Now, in this moment, Haru thinks he finally understands it for what it really is.

Love. He loves Makoto, has always loved Makoto, he thinks, but has never really let himself consider the different ways in which he did. There had been too much going on when they were in high school, too many hurdles they had to leap over, and it was all they could do just to lean on each other. There are still hurdles even now of course, but they are both stronger, a little more apart from each other but closer than ever at the same time. It is why the way they are now, Haru thinks, is the perfect time for him to tell Makoto.

It’s a terrifying thought, to change the comfortable dynamic between them that has been their norm for so many years. Haru knows more than anyone else (except perhaps his best friend) how resistant he can be to change. But Makoto has always been the one bridging the distances in their relationship, ever the brave one between them. This time, though, Haru wants to take that step. He wants to be brave for Makoto.

A soft squeeze of his hand suddenly startles Haru out of his thoughts and he turns to look at Makoto inquisitively.

“I can hear you thinking over there, Haru-chan.”

Makoto turns to meet his gaze and smiles.

Haru knows the entire catalogue of Makoto’s smiles like the back of his hand, but this is the smile that Haru has never seen directed at anyone but himself: when Haru has declared his desire to swim that first relay back in high school, when Makoto shared his dream of becoming a swim coach, when they sit in the library and meet each other’s gaze, in quiet moments like this one. 

Makoto’s eyes are brimming with affection and his smile is tinged with a shy sweetness. He looks as though he’s opening himself up for Haru to read, unrestrainedly laying all of his feelings bare. He’s beautiful in the soft glow of the moon and Haru can only think _I love him. Wholly. In every way possible._ Looking at him now, he thinks Makoto loves him too.

And that’s all Haru needs, really.

“Makoto…”

His smile widens in answer. 

Haru uses the hand that’s not holding onto Makoto’s to slowly but gently cup the side of his face. His best friend’s eyes are wide, but the faint smile around his lips suggest that it is not an unwelcome gesture. 

“Haru…” He sounds almost disbelieving.

“Makoto…” Haru tries again, but finds that the words are too large to be said, sticking to his throat and making his chest ache even more intensely. He’ll just have to show him, then. After all, Haru has never been one for many words.

Locking sea blue eyes to forest green, Haru reads all the permission he needs, and leans in.

Makoto’s lips are cold from the freezing night, but the warmth that glows in Haru’s chest is anything but. It travels from the tips of his fingers to the ends of his toes, and he is struck once again with how _right_ it all feels. As Makoto’s other hand winds around his waist, bringing them closer, Haru doesn’t ever think he really felt peace until this moment.

They break away naturally, but still stay close to one another, foreheads touching and breath intermingling. Haru wonders if Makoto can feel his heart pounding from their proximity, but the shaky breaths he hears tell him that the feeling is probably mutual. While it makes him happier than he’s ever felt, he still needs to _know_.

“If this...if this is what I want, from now on...would you stay?” The words are hardly more than a shaky whisper.

Makoto pulls back a little to look at him. His eyes are brimming with emotion and Haru’s own begin to sting a little in response.

“Haru...of course, yes.”

And it’s like being in the water, this feeling...enveloped in serene arms, surrounded by calmness and overwhelmingly loved. 

Overwhelming is the word Haru would use right now too, so he buries his face in the crook on Makoto’s neck and holds on, heart clenching at the way Makoto sniffles and responds in kind. He doesn’t really know how long they stay like that, and he knows that if anyone were to look up from the ground below, they would see them, two distant figures loath to leave their tight embrace. Makoto will probably die of embarrassment later, but right now they can’t bring themselves to care, both wrapped up in the euphoria and fear that accompanies the progression of any relationship, especially the leap they’ve taken now.

Haru knows with certainty, though, that they will be ok. They will be able to face anything in their future as long as they are by one another’s side. 

In an echo of today’s earlier events, Haru feels the cold of the night finally seep through his clothes and he just about suppresses another sneeze. 

Instead of breaking apart though, Makoto tightens their embrace, chuckling softly in his ear.

“We should probably get you inside.”

Haru holds on petulantly, to Makoto’s amusement.

“C’mon, Haru. You’re still sick, you know.”

A thought suddenly occurs to Haru, and he can’t fight a blush. 

“I hope I didn’t just get _you_ sick.”

The laugh that springs free from Makoto is so light and carefree, Haru’s heart swells.

“I think it would be worth it, Haru-chan”

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Miipn!
> 
> This fic sort of got away from me and is probably a little rambly too, but I tried my best to incorporate all of your likes! However, I ended up interpreting hurt/comfort in more of a sickfic way 😢 and while Haru does less talking about his feelings, he ends up thinking a LOT about them instead, so I hope both of these work for you!
> 
> To everyone else too, I hope you enjoy and thank you for reading!!! 💖


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